


Some Post-Heist Resolution

by RebelNoun



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelNoun/pseuds/RebelNoun
Summary: Clarissa Aeramen is all out of sorts after a botched heist and conflicting perceptions of her actions. She decides the only way to deal with it is to go to the source of the problem, and has some intriguing discussions pertaining to her past and rumors of a person of interest.





	Some Post-Heist Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> This contains spoilers for the Waterdeep: Dragon Heist adventure. Read at your own risk!
> 
> This is just a one-off as a sort of "conclusion" for my PC during this campaign. This is not meant to be canon in any way. Enjoy!

It had been a few days since the botched Dragon Heist, and Clarissa needed to do...something. Her companions had shamelessly accused her of betrayal, without a simple assumption that maybe, just  _ maybe _ what she had done had been out of self preservation. She had heard enough stories to know that when faced with the leader of a long-standing drow mercenary band, it’s best to give him what he wants and pretend to not exist. Regardless, the group had failed their mission, lost out on the gold, and had no plans to do anything else any time soon.

_ Well, there’s no harm in trying _ , she thought to herself. Clarissa made her way to the docks, tossing the quartermaster a few silver to borrow a small rowboat to make her way to the  _ Eyecatcher _ . She gestured to one of the deckhands, whispering a brief message requesting to speak with the captain. They brought her aboard rather skeptically.  _ That’s fair _ , she thought. The last time she set foot on the ship, one of her companions had made a scene stealing a relic off of the captain who just so happens to be arguably one of the more dangerous people in Waterdeep, if only due to his enigmatic nature.

“Captain Zord” came up from below decks, cocking an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? Didn’t we settle our business already?”

Clarissa didn’t bat an eye. “I...just...want my money back,” she said cautiously, being sure to consider her next words carefully. The person masquerading as a captain was not necessarily quick to anger, but once his ire was earned, it became difficult to continue any sort of dealings. She hoped her upfront request was enough to pique his curiosity.

He snorted. “As if you’re in a position to be making demands. I could kill you with a wave of my hand, and no one would even know.”

She knew enough from the stories to not doubt his words, but she had one thing going for her. “Here’s the thing, though,” she started, a smirk crossing her face. “If you  _ really _ wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have let me on this boat. Honestly, you wouldn’t have let me leave the vault. You’ve had every opportunity to kill me and yet you haven’t.”

The captain bobbed his head from side to side, pondering what she had said. “You  _ do _ have a valid point,” he conceded, gesturing to the hatch leading to his quarters below decks. “Come. We have some...potential business to discuss.”

She followed him down to his quarters. His cabin seemed roomier than it had a few days prior, likely a side effect of trying to be sneaky and absolutely failing. The chess set that she had shattered had been magically repaired or replaced. As the captain shut the door, the illusion fell and before her stood not a human, but a lithe drow by the name of Jarlaxle. The one and only leader of the famed mercenary band Bregan D’aerthe that had effectively been exiled from the Underdark. He was tall by drow standards, though appearing slightly shorter than your average human, clad in all black, his satin shirt unbuttoned from his sternum up. He could easily be described as a typical swashbuckler, complete with a wide-brimmed hat adorned with a comically large plume. He turned to face her, his eyepatch flipped up - a rare thing, if the stories are to be believed. “Please, take a seat,” he said, following her with his red eyes as she obliged. He sat down himself, propping his feet up on the table. “I hate to say this, but  _ your _ money is gone.”

Clarissa chuckled. “Something tells me you don’t actually hate saying that. What happened to it?”

“The same thing you wanted to do with it. ‘Return it to the people.’ Such a noble goal, truly.”

She couldn’t hide the brief shock that crossed her face. “Forgive my skepticism, but surely you can’t have done that out of the kindness of your heart,” she sarcastically replied. The obviously perturbed look she shot the drow as he began chuckling just made him laugh all the more.

“You humans really are an unpredictable lot,” he said as he reached for a bottle of wine, uncorking it and pouring out a pair of glasses. “Please, help yourself. Clarissa simply stared, and her distrust must have been evident as Jarlaxle added, “You said it yourself: I could have killed you earlier, but I haven’t. It’s safe, don’t worry.”

She hesitantly took a sip, and it was one of the best wines she’d tasted, not quite so sweet as to cause a toothache.  _ At least he has good taste in drinks _ , she thought, nodding appreciatively. “Anyway. You said we had business. Since I can’t get my money, I’d like some information.”

“Of course.” He rocked his chair back, stroking his chin as he did so. His mind went down many possible avenues for where this could lead, but none of them prepared him for the specific question she asked.

“What do you know of bronze dragons along the Sword Coast?” There was a certain inquisitive light in her eyes, and Jarlaxle noticed something about her skin in the flickering candlelight that he somehow hadn’t noticed in broad daylight - scales?

“I know of some, yes,” he began, and upon noticing Clarissa’s anticipation added, “but they’re only rumors.” She deflated a bit at that, which truly intrigued him. “Tell me, why the seemingly intense interest?” He was curious himself, now, as to how a woman as young as her seemed so fixated.

“I was born to a merchant family in Baldur’s Gate. I knew deep down that there was something... _ different _ ...about me, I just didn’t quite understand what. My parents made sure to give me a normal life, though, until…” Her voice trailed off as she held up a hand, sparks dancing across her delicate fingertips. “I began to demonstrate what some would think is an unnatural affinity for lightning magic. It was then that my mother told me a story about how my great-grandmother crossed paths with a dragon, and, well…” She gestured to herself. “The draconic blood made it down to me, I guess. So, I was hoping…”

“...To find the dragon,” he finished, realizing where she was going with this. “So...information for information. What could someone like you have to offer me?”

Clarissa leaned back with a sly smile on her face. “I know where to start looking for your friend.”

Jarlaxle forgot himself for a moment there, going slackjawed. “You’re lying. You have to be. We’ve been searching for years.” The defeat was evident in his voice as he rested his head in his hands.

“Well, there are rumors floating that he’s gone home,” she replied, shrugging nonchalantly. She smiled when he started to speak, knowing where his mind was going. “Calimport might have been where he became who he is, but it’s not his home. I’m not sure where  _ there _ is, but you know him better than I do.” She stood and began walking for the door. “Remember, a house does not necessarily make a home,” she said as she grabbed the handle.

“Wait. You’re giving me this without even waiting for my end of the deal?” He stood, but stopped as she turned to face him.

“You know where I live. I’m content with waiting,” she replied, leaving him below decks. She got in her rowboat and made for the docks, whistling all the while.  _ That went better than expected _ , she thought, _ though I probably  _ should _ have waited for the information I wanted. Oh well _ . Upon returning to the tavern, it seemed as though she hadn’t even left - cold shoulders from some, sympathy from others. She simply went up to her room, and waited.

***

Meanwhile, Jarlaxle stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the open doorway. He let out a drawn-out sigh, flipping his eye patch down over his...right eye, he felt. Nobody needed to know the emotions he had flowing through him at this exact moment. He locked the door, grabbed some maps from the shelf, and laid them out on the table. He chuckled when he noticed a small crystal anchored in leather hanging off the chair - an arcane focus that most definitely was  _ not _ his.  _ Well, I guess there’s the reassurance that we’ll be meeting again at some point _ , he mused.

“Now, time to figure out where Artemis Entreri considers home.”


End file.
